Not a Hope in Hell
by dcj
Summary: ONE-SHOT: She starts to turn away when the door opens again. She looks, has to. There he is. But he isn't alone. She watches as they pause just outside the entrance; her heart pauses too.


Woke up at six o'clock yesterday morning but forced myself to stay in bed till seven. Kept my mind occupied by dozing off and imagining this story in my head. Pretty sure I lost half of it between the bed and the computer, but this is the gist of it. Different from what I've written previously I think; for one thing, it is in the present tense. Pretty sure you'll pick up on the other thing right away too. Hope you enjoy it.

As always – I own nothing Rookie Blue and I thank SairsJ for looking this over.

* * *

She watches from the corner of the building hidden by the shadows. She debates with herself for ten minutes on whether or not to just walk in. She takes a few steps towards the door and then turns for home at least five times before she decides to just wait it out. She's been waiting for almost twenty minutes now. His truck is here and that means he is too.

She watches the back door open and close a number of times but never to… him.

She's really tired. Six months is a long time to be away and she hasn't slept in at least twenty four hours, but she knows sleep won't come until… She shakes her head, tries not to fool herself. She knows a lot has to have changed. She starts to turn away when the door opens again. She looks, has to. There he is.

But he isn't alone.

She watches as they pause just outside the entrance; her heart pauses too.

The woman he's with has brown hair that's woven into an intricate braid. She's smiling up at him, her hand placed delicately on his forearm as she speaks.

She watches the dimples play in his cheeks as he smiles back at the woman, but he's shaking his head. The woman continues to try and persuade him; she's not giving up easily.

Something clenches at **her** heart.

She watches him shrug his shoulders.

Buoyed by the possibility of his submission, the woman speaks again as she backs away demurely. Her head tilts to the side and she continues to plead her case. He shakes his head, chuckling as he turns to walk away.

She watches him walking directly towards his truck, nearer to her. His head is down studying his keys, and her feet are frozen to the ground. One step and she can be out in the light where he can fully see her. One word, one small word that doesn't even have to be loud and he would be able to hear her; he is that close. She does neither.

He is almost at the back of his truck when he feels it… her. His head jerks up and he turns to the side, looking straight into the shadow. His eyes meet hers and he too freezes. Is he seeing things or is she really…

"Hey," she puffs out.

And he can finally breathe again.

They both move towards each other, unable to resist the pull.

As soon as he is close enough, his arms reach for her. She has no idea what he did with his keys because all she feels are his hands against her skin. They start by cradling her face and then they move gently along her shoulders and arms down to her hands. He holds on, doesn't let go.

"Hey," he finally whispers back.

The tears are glistening in her eyes but she does her best to keep them at bay. She wants this, needs to know if he wants this too. She can't waste time on tears. There will be plenty of time for them later if…

She swallows hard and squeezes his hands. "Can we…" she starts, blows out a long slow breath, tries again, "do you want…" She closes her eyes for a second, two and then they flash wide, determined. "Is it too late to go for that drink?"

He drops his gaze to the ground, chuckles softly at his luck. He looks back up at her. "I thought you'd never ask."

The ride is quick… and quiet. They pull up outside the bar without another word. He briefly wonders if he should have suggested somewhere more private. He looks to her and she looks content, almost happy… so he is too.

This is his chance and he's going to take it… wherever it goes.

He meets her around the back of his truck, reaches for her hand. She relinquishes it willingly, smiling as he leads them to the door. He takes a deep breath and pushes through; she's still firmly in his grasp.

The door opens and eyes are drawn to it. No one is surprised to see him; he's there most nights. They turn away; resume their conversations, nothing new to see here.

The woman with the brown hair sees him enter too, turns her back to him quickly. _He came._ She smiles smugly as she reaches to pull up another stool. She's almost certain this is the start of something really great.

A co-worker is sitting beside her. He turns to the door at the same time as she does. He knows the man well, has worked with him for a long time, considers him his best friend. He lifts his hand to wave him over but stops midway. Something is different. Something's there that he can't quite figure out. He doesn't look away, waits. The smile on his face grows. He turns back to the woman. "You won't need that," he tells her.

She looks over at him, confusion painted on her face. "But he always sits here when he comes." It's the reason she sat here herself.

"You could pull up two, but I really don't think…"

The woman tunes him out. Sensing the approach, she turns to invite the man to join them. The words don't make it past her lips as she realizes that he is not alone. There's a woman with him and he's holding her hand like his life depends on it.

She watches them walk to a booth. He doesn't even notice that she is there. Her eye is drawn back to the bar as her co-worker motions to the bartender and then to the couple that just sat down. The bartender nods and immediately pours out two drinks.

The man in the booth speaks quietly to his companion, still holding her hand across the table. He nods at her response and then moves to stand. Before he can exit the booth, the bartender sets down two drinks. The question in their eyes has him gesturing towards their co-worker at the bar. The couple smiles at their friend and he tips his drink in salute. They nod their thanks and return their attention to each other.

The co-worker smiles to himself before his attention is drawn to a raucous table across the room. The entire group is laughing, enjoying each other's company. It's nice to see them like this and he's glad they're focused on each other rather than… His smile drops; they're pitcher is empty and they are now trying to decide who should get the next round.

He stands up and walks toward their table, but he fears that he may be too late when one woman rises, pitcher in hand, before he can get to her. She gets two steps before she freezes, her mouth drops open as she looks back to her table and then back at the booth. She thinks she sees her best friend, someone she has been missing for a long time. She can't tell who she is with; the booth is blocking her view. But it doesn't matter; she's home.

Her friends follow her gaze. Eyes widen in surprise. They all rise to their feet. But before they can move forward, they spot the co-worker coming their way. He shakes his head and they all freeze. It may be after hours, but they still trust his judgment. He beckons the woman forward just far enough; she can now see her best friend's companion. She nods her agreement before turning away, encourages everyone to sit back down. The only other woman in the group, a blond, shakes her off and stalks out the door into the night. The two men sit down content to wait for her explanation. It's not long before they are nodding as well.

They don't approach the booth but their boisterousness has been replaced by curiosity and concern. A quiet falls over the table, whispered conversations replacing the once animated chatter. Individual attentions are intermittently drawn across the bar.

Pretty soon others catch on; their eyes drawn as well. The hush sweeps its way across the bar almost as if the patrons are worried that they might disturb the couple.

They needn't worry. The quiet conversation continues in the booth and the couple is completely unaware of the attention they have drawn. The world does not exist outside their corner.

Time passes, but the hush never really goes away. It's almost eerily quiet for the number of people in attendance. And no one is leaving; there's too much at stake.

They watch and wait.

The mood is dark for a long time, but then the couple stands. He reaches out his hand and she takes it without hesitation. She smiles brightly and so does he.

The light is back.

And so is the life in the crowd.

Their co-worker at the bar tips his drink up in salute as they approach. "Ah…young love."

The man shakes his head, tucks his tongue into his cheek, and tries hard to tamp down the grin. He does not succeed.

His friend claps him on the back before pulling his companion from his grip. "Come here." He hugs her hard. "Don't ever do that again; you hear?"

She giggles a little as he releases her. "I'm sorry," is how she answers but knows she never will.

"You came back in one piece; that's all that counts."

It's only slight, but it is there. Her hand flinches, a conscious effort to stop a now almost instinctual movement. It does not go unnoticed. The two men exchange a look while she looks away. Some things have not changed. **He **would find out later what had.

The rest of her friends have already surrounded them. Hugs are plentiful and tears are kept at bay because all is right again and happiness abounds.

She offers a quick shrug to her companion as her friends pull her around the corner of the bar. A line of shooters is already waiting. She shakes her head in wonder, thinks about all she's missed. But her best friend won't let her dwell; she pushes a small glass into her hand and they toast to her return and all they have to look forward to.

The man is smiling at the picture in front of him. Shakes his head himself, can't believe his luck. His co-worker, no best friend, claps him on the back again and pushes a fresh drink in front of him, holds his own up for a toast of their own.

The man nods his thanks but holds up a finger, wants him to hold that thought. He pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number.

"Boss," he greets before quickly requesting a personal day off for tomorrow.

He's more than surprised when the boss tells him that it's already been taken care of. "How?"

The man has a great friend and an understanding partner.

The boss recounts the two phone calls he's already received from the bar that night, each with the same request. He doesn't say anything about the third phone call he received, from the number that looked eerily familiar. There was no one on the other end of the line anyway… not that he could hear. He tries hard not to wonder if their fallen comrade finally figured out how to work his cell phone.

The man hangs up and claps his friend on the shoulder as he offers his thanks. He picks up his drink but she's back at his side before he can take a sip.

It's all finally catching up to her and she's exhausted. She doesn't have to ask; he just knows. "Let me take you home."

He pushes his drink towards his friend and promises to see him in a couple of days. He takes her hand again and they leave… together.

The brown haired woman appears at her co-workers side once again.

"I tried to tell you that first week," he reminds her.

She nods mostly in resignation. "I didn't think… I mean she was never… and he was always by himself. I figured..." She blew out a breath. "How long has she been gone?"

"Six months. But he broke up with her about six weeks before that."

"What? But you said…"

He holds up his hand. "Long story. They were apart, yes, but he wanted to try again. She just got called under before she could give him an answer."

"And he waited?"

Her co-worker rolls his wedding ring around on his finger. "Some things you don't give up without a fight."

The brown haired woman replays the night in her head. The man is good looking, the strong, silent type with dimples to die for, IF you can coax them out of him. But there was always something there in his eye. She had never quite been able to put her finger on it. She just now realizes that it wasn't something that was there; it was something that was not… or she guesses she should say **someone** that was not. And now that someone was back and so was that missing part of him.

"I didn't stand a chance; did I?"

"Not a hope in hell."

* * *

A.N. I have no idea why I didn't use any names. It just started out that way and it felt right to continue. Hope it worked for you too. I'm pretty sure you know who I meant.


End file.
